


Fly Agaric

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Flirting, Gen, Hurt, M/M, Medieval Medicine, plant names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WHAT, pray tell, are the ingredients of this THING?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Agaric

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speakmefair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speakmefair/gifts).



  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

            “Ow.”  Athos furrowed his brow and his nostrils twitched as if he was a pure-bred hound disapproving of the smell of his dinner.

            “Well, hold _still_ , and then I won’t poke you.”  Aramis sighed and looked again at the small jar in his hands.

            “I _am_ holding still, you’ve just obviously never done this before, so I don’t know why you were so resolute to try.”

            “Now I think I am actually going to insert my finger right _through_ your wound if you don’t shut up!”

            Athos squinted and shot his friend an accusatory look.

            “But you _insisted_ on doing this.  You can at least forbear from the threats of penetration until after you’ve dressed my wound with this…. goopy, greenish….  poison?”

            Aramis sniffed at the small jar suspiciously and cocked an eyebrow.  “No, but really.  What do you think is in this… concoction?”

            “And how quickly will it kill me?”

            Aramis dipped a slender pinky into the jar and brought it to the tip of his tongue.

            “No!  What the hell are you doing!”  Athos grabbed his friend’s wrist but it was too late:  the tongue had descended.

            Aramis made a grimace, then swallowed, then proceeded to swivel his tongue around his mouth, licking each one of his teeth methodically, while Athos watched, his head cocked to the side with the vague uncertainty of a beast who was contemplating whether to lick his friend’s face or to lick the jar for himself.

            “Gooseberries and _Anthemis nobilis_ ,” Aramis finally declared.

            “Yes, and most likely _Amanita muscaria_ as well,” Athos suggested.

            “Could be.  The Gascon has every reason to want you dead.  You insulted his mother!”

            “I did no such thing!”

            “Oh well, I must have made that up then.”

            “Wonderful,” Athos took the jar out of his friend’s hand and, scooping some of the gelatinous substance out with his fingers, he applied it to his own shoulder, wincing slightly at the unorthodox feel of the unguent.  “Please don’t ever do that again.”

            “What?” Aramis asked with feigned innocence, batting his long eye lashes languorously.  “Threaten to poke your wound or lick poison?”

            Athos smirked.  “I’m not some wench who cares to explain her feelings to you,” he said, his expression a mask of bored composure.

            “Thank god for that!” Aramis responded with gusto, and, with a furtive spark in his eyes, tossed the jar of d’Artagnan’s balm across the room.

**Author's Note:**

> (And then they had sex - Happy Yule!)


End file.
